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Audiobook
Published October 21, 2021
In my life, I’ve felt the presence of true darkness, of evil, of things that have haunted and will continue to haunt me until I take my very last breath. But at the top of the list, far ahead of whatever may come in second place, was the feeling I got in that room, in that moment, looking at those shelves, stocked with sealed, dusty mason jars.
They lived smack dab in the middle of nowhere, along a dusty, narrow lane—literally called Narrow Paved Road—that stretched like the world’s longest and straightest arrow across the farmlands of Lynchburg, South Carolina. Being the middle of summer, the black pavement of the infinite road shimmered with heat, the air above the lane practically boiling as we cut through it. Crops went past in their beautiful rows—the lines of white dirt flashing like an odd sort of strobe light as we sped by.
We were walking along the old abandoned train tracks, their long rails still straight if not a little rusted and worse for wear. Every good thing that comes with the end of winter and the onset of spring was in full view around us. Oak trees and birches and maples dressed themselves with green leaves, taking some of the glory back from the pines that had stood their ground through the cold months. The undergrowth of the forest was alive again, the bushes and vines and weeds filling in those lonely, wintry gaps, making the whole place seem crowded and happy. There were even flowers peeking out, some reds and blues, but mostly yellows at this early stage. It all smelled fresh and vibrant, somehow made all the stronger by the constant hum of insects, a buzzy roar that becomes its own kind of silence.